The Stars Move Still, Time Runs, The

Virtue Is The Fount Whence Honour Springs.

Nothing Violent, Oft Have I Heard Tell, Can Be Permanent.

What Are Kings, When Regiment Is Gone, But Perfect Shadows In A Sunshine Day?

More Childish Valorous Than Manly Wise.

Is It Not Passing Brave To Be A King And Ride In Triumph Through Persepolis?